Fragmented Birthright
by Sanctimonious Ape
Summary: "They say, the servants at Hyrule Castle, that Princess Zelda is dethroned, That the man from the desert walks freely about the halls, That our hero fights without Courage." Link, now madly transformed into a monster, must cope with memories of the past now scarily in the flesh. Can he once again defeat Majora's puppets, himself its Champion?
1. Something Wicked, This Way Comes

**Welcome, friends, readers and stumblers. Welcome to my first Zelda publication. I hope your search has been fruitful.  
Thanks to my lovely Beta-reader**, **and Jamie who went to the awesome effort of the front cover.** **Both of you are invaluable, even if said Beta-reader wishes to go anonymous.** **Anyways, without further ado...**

Whenever there is a meeting, a parting shall follow. But that parting needs not last forever.  
Whether a parting be forever or merely for a short while... that is up to you.  
_Happy Mask Salesman, Majora's Mask_

O

The window imploded, and the spell-riddled Hero in the centre of the glass spider web was sent flying, glass fragments sticking into his body, where the magic did not course. The Master Sword landed first, landing point down into the carved slabs of the courtyard below. The infernal energies ceased their crackling, sinking into the stone.

"I can offer you a choice, Hero." said a voice from the darkness, the shadows and his cloak one and the same, perched on the sill above. Seconds later, he magically reappeared over Link, hauling the Hero up by the front of his green tunic. "It is over. You have lost. The Princess has lost. Hyrule has lost. All of you now beyond that which you called life." This new foe paused, a soft laugh resonating from under his cowl, his face lost into darkness. "Do you continue your fight, or do you embrace your fate, for none shall stand before my strength?"

Link gritted his teeth, a trickle of blood coming from between his lips. "N-no. I fight for Zelda. I w-won't let her down."

"Fool." The cloaked evil released the Hero, letting him fall with a thump. With a foot clad in crimson wraps, the sorcerer flipped Link onto his front, letting him crawl for a few seconds. Then, he placed his foot on his back, pushing down. A groan of deepest pain trickled from between the Hero's clenched teeth, causing the sorcerer to unleash a triumphant cackle.

"Imagine. I overpowered the King of Thieves to claim Power for my own. I used Ganondorf for my own plots, weakening the kingdom, and in night, I took the Princess' life, and her Triforce part. And," He came close to Link's ear, revealing his blood-tattooed chin. "I have the power, the wisdom and the courage to do it again. To think I, a humble wizard, would be blessed by a great evil, and It would give Its gifts to me so I could cleanse Hyrule, to protect it from the bridling mass of evil that awaits."

"N-no; it isn't true. You can't be serious. Hy-Hyrule will not fall to those as black-hearted as you." The Hero stammered, his eyes dulling, hope flickering for the last time, for they flicked into transparency.

"Oh, it has. Zelda's corrupt tyranny is at an end."

Then all faded to pure black, trickles of blood blurring the Hero's vision. Never-ending pain was predominant. It needed to stop.

"Majora granted me this power. I intend to use it." Was what Link heard last, before Oblivion, Lady of the Dead, swept him into her cool, ordered embrace.

O

"Imagine, Hero, that everything you owned was destroyed. Everything... but your memories. You hate them still, those who practically killed me. You want revenge. Where would you be?"

The bandage swathed mass made no move.

"No, my champion, you wouldn't like it: neither did I. I was banished, like some common criminal, to the Dark World."

The preacher looked both ways down the infirmary. The only doctor was well out of hearing range.

"I escaped, sure, but not before I spent torturous years in a treasury, stuck again in that infernal mask. No Skull Kid to save me; only idiots who likened me to myself, albeit all-powerful. Ask yourself this, my champion. Where do your loyalties lie: To the omniscient, omnipotent? Or those who fight for good, but bear the colours of evil?"

Once again, the preacher looked up and down the infirmary. Nothing stirred.

"What did Majora do to wrong you?"

There was silence as the preacher paused for a third time, this instance looking directly at the gibbous moon. The serene light fractured into a rainbow. The preacher took its eyes away from the stained window, and back to the Hero.

"Link, you are reborn. Isn't death the most painful thing? Wouldn't you want to avoid it again?  
"I gave you one gift in exchange for another, but you can earn Courage. Prove to me that Natu was right, that you can change."

The preacher padded off, each window now a mural of a once-known visage.

O

Warmth, breath, existence... they had all returned like old, hostile friends. Then substance, memory and the beat of the Hero's heart rejoiced and lent their abilities. His eyelids opened, the sight of Hyrule Castle's twilit Infirmary new, uncomfortable, but welcomed, for new friends must be made.

"My champion awakens, from the grasps of Death." said an all too familiar voice, gently, without malice for once; the sorcerer from the bedside, fingers leaving an ink sodden leaf of vellum. In his voice, maybe a hint of care, tenderness, around his words, smothered in adoration. Link sat up, his hand grasping for a weapon that was not there. The sorcerer allowed this behaviour with a grin, his tattoos separated by pearly white.

"W-why though? Why do you need me? S-surely I am more use to you dead than alive." The Hero stuttered, finding his voice.

The sorcerer closed his tome, emblazoned with a face painted in red, with horrible eyes and lined with harsh spikes. In the silence, the noise of leather and paper clashing was colossal, threatening to awaken the other patients.

"Yes. And, I suppose, no. Everyone should get a second chance. Do you not agree?" The sorcerer smiled, his eyes flashing in the rays of dying sunlight. "It took me a lot of effort to convince Majora that your life was one worth preserving. Or do you not agree, Link? Should I not have gone to the effort?"

The Hero shook his head, freeing his arms from under the covers. They were tenderly wrapped in crimson bandages. His skin was grey, devoid of life, underneath. "W-what... what have I become?" He asked aloud, his newly regained voice naught but a whisper. Faint purple veins flowed about his appendages. Golden specks, like grains of stardust traversed as well, weakly flowing with the tide.

"I'm afraid I could not restore you to the heresy you once were." The Sorcerer answered wistfully. Almost as if he wanted opposition. "The doctors were concerned that I was 'wasting my time', that you would never return to us, 'Necromancy is a fool's game', they told me. Do I waste my time, Link?"

The Hero looked up from his pale, comatose arms, feeling nothing he once had in previous life. No pulse: Was this nothing but sorcery laid upon him? He looked up. "What have you done to me? Why would you bring me back? It's defying the Goddesses to take from the ranks of the dead!"

The Sorcerer barked like a Terminian Jackal, the concerns of deities below him. "Perhaps, I had need of you, Champion." He pushed his chair back, rising slightly from his chair.

"You must rest, Hero of Majora. A storm is brewing and we must repel it."

The Sorcerer whisked around, sweeping down the aisle of beds, deflecting dust motes as he went.

Sleep reclaimed the newly christened 'Hero of Majora', pulling him back into its inky depths.

O

**Like it? I did have a very good professional read through it. Maybe you should read theirs.  
If you could, please critique, though I am quite open to any form of feedback  
**


	2. Proving One's Worth

**Hey, I've returned! **

**Yes, fret not, fretters, I have the literature you were undoubtedly looking forward to!**

**This, my friends is at least twice as long as all my previous updates, and I hope you enjoy it!**

O

It is common belief that, in the lower districts of Castle Town, The Goddesses help those who help themselves. That help from without is often enfeebiling, and help from within invariably invigorates. 'Twaddle', I tell them, 'Twaddle of magimous degrees'  
_Elunnin Brackwrithe, Hyrulian Philanthropist_

Link delicately pulled on 'his' black tunic, emblazoned with Majora's cruel countenance, over his chain-mail shirt. He tightened his belt above his hips then paced back and forth in 'his' chamber, contemplating Hyrule under the rule of Natu, Majora's sorcerer.

The Hero had been killed, but resurrected later. What exactly were Natu's motives, this "Storm" he spoke about? It was all he had heard these past few days, from either his sick-bed in the infirmary, and when discharged, across the oaken table, over liquid meals.

He, apparently the Champion of Majora, would have to defend Hyrule against something even worse than the sorcerer's god. What was worse than a crazed... thing? What exactly _was_ Majora: A demon at least, perhaps a form of deity? It was confusing; the Goddesses had not bestowed him wisdom.

Link collapsed into his chair, taking up a spoon to idly stir his salty Terminian leek and potato soup, taking a cautious sip once in a while. The doctors, even Natu himself, had said he would never be as steady as he once was, both physically and mentally.

He hated sickbays.

A weathered map served as his place mat, Natu having scrawled all over it in the last "meeting". He wanted an empire where he could give patrols more often than ever, even adopting the ancient providence system. Whilst the three Hyrule had merely made it a country, Natu's eyes had sparkled mischievously, muttering something about Trespas, their neighbours to the south, with a booming agricultural business.

The Hero dropped his spoon back into the broth, easing himself up and padding over to the windowsill, where he rested his arms. The servants were slowly setting up targets and those banners.

Natu was vain. The two coloured banners hung everywhere, two halves of Majora's mask plastered arrogantly everywhere. Not even the infirmary, where Link sometimes sought sanctuary in this week of freedom, was safe anymore. A week: a week to gawp at the usurper's cold, callous eyes. Not even 'his' chambers were a haven. True, his designated quarters were spacious, organised and fit for some minor lord, but they were not his, per say. They had probably been wrenched from some old noble's family: probably deceased. Link could still see the cobwebs lingering in the corner.

The Hero took his eyes back to the courtyard. A few crystalline flakes were gently settling on the slabs, covering the poorly cleaned blood. The battle was now merely a forgotten dream, parts repeating like foggy mantras, fading into troubled sentences.

A servant's voice jolted him out of his reverie.

"Muh-master L-link?" intruded a timid squeak.

The Hero looked impatiently over his shoulder, noting the servant's poor posture. His defences were appalling. As were his manners.

"Didn't Natu teach you to knock?" He snarled, hating his ruminations to be spoilt.

"Oh, I-I am in-incredibly suh-sorry. I'll re-remember next time."

"Is there any reason why you are here at all, other than to bother me?"

"Uhm, yes. I h-have a message from our King." The servant said, holding out a slip of vellum, like it was a bone for a dog to snatch.

One thing that annoyed the Hero was that everybody was scared of him. Yes, he may look like evil's incarnation, but he was still the same man inside. Maybe these people had forgotten that he had once been the Hero of Time, and had averted the Moon's fall over Termina. Of course, now that he thought about it, Ganondorf's defeat took place in a different future, and Majora's attempt at revenge didn't even concern Hyrule.

Link opened the letter, scanning the scholarly script.

_Link,_

_As soon as you can, I'd like to see you in the courtyard. I have some no doubt familiar faces that I'd like you to re-meet. Also, I hope your archery is still as good as it once was. I wish to test your loyalty._

_Natu _

The text brought back memories of reading lessons under the Great Deku tree's boughs, Saria guiding his tongue as she explained the written word to him. The unnecessary twirls and points tried to dissuade him, but the general message came across.

"Thank you. I shall see that I comply. You may go." The Hero barked, feeling anger subside in him.

"Oh, Master Link, I'm to accom-accompany you." The servant said with a cautious smile.

"Very well; wait whilst I get my bow."

Link moved to his weapon rack, where, sadly, the Master Sword was missing. He took his bow from the top and strung it, quickly putting it across his chest using the string as a handle. "Let's go." The Hero beckoned, pushing past the servant.

O

The bitter, snow filled air breezed about the courtyard, causing Link to retreat into 'his' tunic. As per the letter, three shapes awaited him. One of these were Natu, the other a giant, toned muscles rippling under his tunic and cloak, and the last a cloaked figure who was not too dissimilar to how Natu had first appeared to The Hero.

"Ah, our champion emerges. Welcome, Link: I'm sure you have met Captain Ganondorf,"

The giant nodded curtly, red mane swirling about his green head. Link returned it, eyes quickly darting elsewhere.

"And our other companion, lovely Lady Zelda." Natu said a grin in his voice as he took her hand. She quickly tried to bring it back to her side, but quickly gave up once the sorcerer's grip proved iron. He brought the appendage to his lips, before disgusted letting it fall. Link was rather taken aback at this revelation. Hadn't, in a previous world, Natu told him Zelda was dead? What was to gain by hiding information like this?

Curse that sorcerer. Curse his very name.

Even to go to the lengths that Natu had, to spoil Zelda's visage like this, was bordering on blasphemous. To reduce not only he, but the crown princess to the undeath he knew only too well...

Natu should lock his doors tonight.

The Hero gave a quick bow, showing the former princess some respect. "Lady Zelda."

In the bleak, frigid light of the noon, Zelda's disfigurement was resplendent in its horror. Her fair skin was replaced with smooth, ashen grey, cobwebbed with the insidious purple veins and their equally vile golden particles. Her brown hair was now remade- or rather reduced to- white, purest white. In its absurd cleanliness, it seemed to harbour more dirt, filth and lies. She seemed to wither away in the sun's rays, and Link could see that see now favoured the shadows. To hide the squalor they both were now.

In once known life, not this mockery he was now, the Princess had been the only person he had answered to. Now, that spot was taken by Natu, unfortunately.

"Master... I hope this isn't idle chatter. I have other work that you have given me," started Ganondorf's grating tones, reluctance and power in a sentence. Had the scourge come to face a power greater than his?

The Hero felt a shiver of fear. He had nearly tasted death at Ganon's hands. If the giant was scared, then Link should be quaking in his boots. To shake the cowardice he felt, the Hero took refuge in Courage, tensing his left hand. Where his Triforce piece should have been, however, was now nothing. His power was gone.

"Farore." He murmured, having lost everything.

"Pardon?" Natu intervened, as if sensing something was afoot.

"I agree, I said. This is a waste of time, meeting those we know." As if to make a point, he took his bow over his head, testing the string.

"Ah, yes; to business of sorts." Natu sagely remarked, bowing his head "Link, you may take the first shot," He said, offering the Hero a flight of arrows, "You should not miss."

"I hope not."

Link took a single arrow, fitting the shaft. Carefully, he raised the weapon, bringing the flight back to his pointed ear. Disconcertingly, various bones clicked into place, his fingers numb.

The Hero steadied his shaking weapon and peered down the arrow, to the bull's-eye. He let the projectile loose, watching as it missed its target, hitting the edge.

"What?!" He exclaimed in disbelief. He'd done it perfectly. The tried and tested method: He had failed. Goddess-damned sickbays, they couldn't put him back together properly.

A slow, sarcastic clap shattered his rage. "Well done. Congratulations are in the offing, Hero of Time. How far have you fallen?"

Link let his weapon out of his hand, a fist of his left hand as the woodwork clattered about. "You said yourself, that I am not as steady as I once was. I have to make use of the limitation that I am."

Natu bowed his head further, pulling up his hood as the snowfall worsened. "True enough. I suppose... I will have to work on your... condition. Ganondorf?"

The Hero picked up his bow as the target reported the King of Thieves' success, right in the centre.

"Those who are obedient to me benefit from my gifts. Where do your loyalties lie?"

Without waiting for Link's answer, Natu called in two guards and a prisoner from the gaol.

The prisoner was as tall as a child, clad in forest green rags, her age timeless. The memories were still fresh in The Hero's head. She was Kokiri, the Sage of the Forest, and Link's best friend.

She was Saria.

The things that had changed were numerous, and not at all pleasant. Blood leaked from a split lip, and her eye was swollen and bruised, cuts and tears everywhere on her person.

"What have you done to her?!" Link demanded, taking a swing at the sorcerer. It never hit the intended target. Instead, Ganondorf immediately caught the fist in his great paw, taking some pleasure in rearranging Link's knuckles with a squeeze.

Link wrenched his hand free, his lip peeling back in rage. He watched as the guards let Saria fall to her knees.

"Believe me, my champion, I wanted to avoid bloodshed."

The Kokiri murmured something which earned her a kick from one of the guards.

Natu turned to face Link, a malicious grin clearly visible from under his black hood. "To prove yourself as Champion, I order you to execute this vixen. High treason, trespassing, attacks against civilians: The list of her unforgivable crimes goes on."

The Hero felt courage rekindle in his hand, burning bright throughout his body.

"One shot to end her suffering. If she really means so much to you, I shall bring her back, like I did with you. Show your faith, Hero."

Then silence fell as everyone looked to Link.

He cautiously put an arrow to his string, hefting it to eye-line.

Saria watched her executioner prepare, no effort to run or to protest: just a tear from her intact eye.

O

Link watched from the window as the blood was cleared, Goddess tears writing over the past.

Natu clearly knew a few tricks, and anticipated rebellion. It hadn't been exactly original to turn just as he shot, and the sorcerer simply used magic to deflect the bolt.

"Why? The pain and sorrow she would have felt, surely it would have been best to end it at your own hand?" asked a long forgotten voice, one of royal standards.

Something the sorcerer was keen to enforce was that the Three Bearers of Triforce were free to wander the castle. Only Natu's rooms and the armoury were out-of-bounds; and the gate, of course.

The sorcerer could not just have his underlings run out from underneath him, could he? Link scoffed slightly, but he was drowned out by his immediate coughing fit. Where would Natu keep the Master Sword? With his sword, The Hero thought, he could simply fight his way out. Then his last crushing defeat drifted up from the abyss of his memories.

Link glanced hatefully over his shoulder, before looking back to the window, mournfully.

Within the open doorway stood Zelda, of all people, and Link did not want a confrontation.

"My Lady, I ask that you knock next time you enter my chambers."

Regardless, the Princess stormed into the room, the end of her fraying skirt trailing like an ominous storm cloud as it curled and unfurled repetitively. Considering they were by the light of the warm candles and not the stark lighting of outdoors, she seemed like some dark, furious siren.

"You are an inconsiderate pig! To take her dignity like that! I'd-"

"You'd what, Zelda? She was my friend. My very first friend, since birth! You've never had a friend like her!"

The Hero paused as his sorrow choked him momentarily.

"I couldn't kill her just like that. Natu asked too much of me. Sometime he will realise I refuse to be his puppet, and that day will come with a knife in his throat."

Link wiped his tear sodden face, turning to face the Princess.

"To you, she was simply a sage, a servant for you to order about, but to me, she was much, much more!"

He stood ready to pelt more of his rage at her, but the Princess' next move threw him.

"I know, I know. She fought until the end." She whispered.

Quickly recovering, he allowed his rage towards the princess to dissipate.

"That villain Natu; He will surely twist her into something evil, something as evil as us." Link said, staring down at his clenched fists.

"Yes..." She murmured, staring at her lifeless hand and she dragged it through her snowy hair. Her reluctance seemed to add to her serene charm, something Link had thought only life could bring.

"We need to talk, about how to take back Hyrule for our own. I cannot accept this travesty our kingdom has become. Saria's death needs to mean something. A sacrifice for a greater cause. We must rid our kingdom of Natu and Ganondorf, and their cruel magic."

The Hero nodded, taking a seat at his table.

"That is not all, Your Majesty. Natu's power comes from a great demon, known as Majora. He is the reason the Moon started to fall over Termina."

He grabbed the nearest tankard of wine, taking a sip to quench his thirst which had amassed in his contemplation.

"I guess... it was revenge, revenge for a deed that had not been done. Alone, abandoned; Majora felt like that, and his grief threw him to destroying everything he once treasured. Friendship can do terrible things, once it is twisted and abused. He turned on each of the four Giants, much like our own Goddesses, and he bent them to his will...  
"On whim to a man I once knew, I braved the harsh, unfamiliar landscape to do what I thought right. With each of the Giants from their own realms, I managed to delay the Moon's falling so I could fight off Majora, consign him to his evil mask. Then, once all was said and done, I gave the wretched mask to this Man, who spirited himself and the mask away. "

Link sighed, knotting his fist harder inside his leather gauntlet.

"That, I assumed would be the end. No more of this absurd demon that played the land of Termina like a pair of loaded dice. But the games that are fixed, I once heard someone, long ago, from a foreign land say... the games that are fixed are easiest to best."

Zelda tucked one of her ivory hairs behind her pallid ear, mulling over Link's words. Eventually, she let free her thoughts.

"Maybe, Link, we could seal this Majora in to the Sacred Realm, like the Sages and I did with Ganondorf."

"There are several flaws with that plan. We no longer have all seven sages. Ganondorf was hardly imprisoned for any length of time. Unless..."

"I was released by Natu. Otherwise the Magic would have held for another few hundred years." interrupted the tones from earlier.

Both the Hero and the Princess looked urgently over at the King of Thieves, who stood in the doorway. He uncrossed his arms, striding over to the table to tower above them both.

"What you have said is true: Hyrule belongs to us, not this... imbecile who has claimed it for himself. I do not appreciate how I am now Natu's lackey. Majora needs to be shown its place, and I for one offer my services. If it is rebellion you desire, then I shall not stand in your way."

And, as he had appeared, Ganondorf suddenly took his leave.

"Working with the King of Thieves? That's something I'd hardly do of free will." Link admitted.

"I suppose that several new bonds will have to be forged to cleanse our kingdom." Zelda added thoughtfully.

And so, the Three Bearers of Triforce took a stance to repel the evil demon that plagued their land.

O

**Yes, Elunnin Brackswrithe is really a fictious Samuel Smiles, but when I read his Self-Help, I thought that that would be the quote for this chapter. Expect to hear more from Mr Brackswrithe in future.**

Please review, because I would love to hear your thoughts and feelings!

**(If not, I ****_will_**** find you.)**


	3. And All That Silence Said

**So, my loyal readers, I've disappeared off the face of the earth once again, only to come back two months later (I think it's been that long. You have my profuse apologies)  
Also on the agenda is my failing internet connection, a trip to Disneyland Paris and the Louvre, as well as plain bone-idleness.  
There are a lot of things I can't wait to tell you about, but first (and foremost) my first Fan-Art! Profuse thanks go to Libra-Hedgie, who I am sure is smitten with my stories. It's true, we actually know each other, but this was as much as a surprise to me as well as those who are surprised about artwork.  
As I write this I realise you will not read this for weeks; again, apologies.  
Without further ado (and mistakes, I swear no typos), I give you this. (And a present 'cause I was gone so long)**

"You cannot stay here." growled the youth, brandishing his fists. And his words were truth, for the people wore rags, stained with dust and sewn with rips: Acolytians from Termina, glorious in their poverty.  
"Oh, yea?" the woman at the head of the run-down entourage grinned, her eyes catching the sunlight and throwing it out like the finest mirror. "Majora gave us sanctuary. We follow our deity where we please. None of thou shall betwixt us and Majora."  
The young man took a defiant step forward; bring his fists into the fray they were looking for. They never landed upon the Acolytian's body. She murmured a hasty prayer, using it to toss him back like a child's doll. The herd moved past like nothing had happened, keeping their eyes mostly to the ground, muttering canticles and antiphons.  
_Elunnin Brackswrithe, Hyrulian Philanthropist_  
O

The fire spat furiously, stoked by tempestuous, fickle winds blowing down the chimney.  
Link did not mind the cold. The other Lords and Ladies, however...  
They were not so accommodating to either the weather or the reanimated Hero, but had put up with both begrudgingly.  
A common saying, amongst these snooty upper-classes, was that "Mere words cannot and do not change a nation."  
Natu offered healthy opposition to that.  
Link idly wondered whether, in the build-up to the week of invasion, if Natu had spent months, perhaps years, reading ancient manuscripts and writing notes upon how his Kingdom of Ungodliness would operate.  
It had been on the last day of Link's recovery, read lack thereof, where the Sorcerer had come to Link's chambers.  
"In the time of the first Zelda, each of the races put forward an ambassador for a Grand Council, held in Hylia's name. She was the patron goddess of your country. Now," Natu tried, as he made a steeple of his bandaged fingers, some tatters of what clothes he wore underneath, like coils of smoke, peeking through, "I am putting forward the idea that we rebuild this council, found only in the antique writings that I have studied, to rule Hyrule in the name of Majora."  
The Hero's first question was as to why Natu had come to him.  
The Sorcerer smiled, reminded once more of the terrible fact that he pulled the stings in the demented puppet shows he had made a once respectable country into. "The first Hero, that of Sky, and the Sword-Master of the Goddess" Natu paused for a second, righting his cowl over his jasper eyes, "He was an arbiter, of sorts: the judge."But, The Hero had never been much of a diplomat, unless slaying beasts was spreading justice, in which case Link was a judicatory miracle. What struck The Hero as odd about a recent turn of events was the fact that over the previous weeks he was being invited to more and more private events, even attending 'council', Natu's little debate in the grand hall over what was to be done to the general populous. He usually spent this hour of pointless argument sleeping. He was more concerned about the 'storm' or perfecting some sword moves.  
As such, these council meetings were spent in slumber. Well, he did sleep usually. The problem was that Natu expected The Hero's recovery to be exponential. Instead, it was more flat lining. He did not seem to be getting better, or getting worse. Worse would be death. So, putting his head into his arms, he allowed himself into his surreal, tranquil respite.  
Very occasionally, it was Natu who took it upon himself to wake his champion if anything particularly important was going to be said. Though usually, it was the princess. Maybe Zelda felt the meetings, as a whole, were important, or to convert Link into an unmatched ambassador. Her methods varied from the subtle kick under the table to the surreptitious series of coughs.  
Today, it was one of the swift, painful boots to the knee. Since Link was in one of his more favoured positions, sprawled out across the table as he slumbered, he sat bolt upright upon the agonised awakening.  
"Good morning, Champion. I hope you don't need your beauty sleep too much." Natu crooned, with an apologetic smile.  
The sorcerer showed a little empathy during the meetings; he understood they were boring, let Link sleep them off, give him the occasional naptime.  
"So where were we? Ah, yes, The Acolytians. Thanks to Minister Darac, all quite aware that these are the people of Majora. For Link's benefit, I will repeat: So are we. We are not one and the same, but I intend to bridge that gap."  
There were a few moans of protest, the subject distasteful, silenced by the wind battering its silences against the window pane. Natu simply let a sinister smile curve upon his tattooed chin.  
"Minister Elunnin, I believe you had something to add?"  
The overweight minister hauled himself upright, impossibly sweating from this small movement. Link suspected that Elunnin lounged in a suburb somewhere far away, where he could be left alone to do whatever aristocrats did.  
"Well, yes. I am aware that the subject of whom we debate is indeed, in no small part distasteful, but a problem like this must be addressed. First, to dispel the rumours: these are not the people who caused the Terminian Crisis eight years ago."  
The council room was silent, most eyes now on Elunnin.  
"They are hard-working, yet fickle people. I have on account that they are like the wind; I can tell you they go where they please-"  
It was Natu himself who interjected. "Yes, Minister. Thank you. The Acolytians," two glowing yellow eyes surveying the table, "are a nomadic race. Has anyone heard of the Garo?"  
This set a murmur running through the assembled lords and ladies, their curiosity stoked.  
Natu then silenced them, leaving the fire to crackle in the quiet.  
"They are natives of an Empire in a land overseas: creatures of shadow and twilight; beings of wind and sand. They are much like the Sheikah."  
Yes, the Sheikah, a now extinct warrior race. Link had heard from Zelda that Natu had Impa, once a fearsome woman, executed. The Sorcerer himself was less dispersing with the details. Maybe it meant that something had gone wrong.  
"The ultimate belief of the Garo was that their duty to the empire came first. And they would rather die than renounce their loyalty."  
Natu stood, his hood slipping slightly to reveal his luminous tattoos pulsating slightly.  
"Anyhow, I digress. The Acolytians have come seeking refuge. That is what they will find, no matter what. Council Adjourned."  
The room was suddenly filled with the noise of clatter and loud tones of displeasure. Many of the members had journeyed halfway across the kingdom for this meeting and were none too pleased that it had only been a few hours.  
Natu spoke louder than them all in his whispering, malevolent voice, somehow communicating through the cacophony. "Lady Zelda, Link... I require your... presences a while longer."  
With a groan, the unhappy hero collapsed back into his stiff wooden chair, feeling his time – which could be put to more constructive measures – trickle away. Once the council chambers were empty save for the three of them, The Sorcerer turned away from his thralls, as if they were now to disgusting to receive eye contact.  
"I have heard... from Majora," said solemn tones, almost as if Natu was Death Incarnate, "That you intend to run out from underneath me."  
Silence stood beside The Sorcerer, hissing a mantra of numbing quiet so loud that no one said a word.  
Link was not sure who to fear the most, with his lack of Courage.  
Natu turned, oblivious to the entity: "If you have, the consequences will be dire, for both of you."  
Link looked over at the once princess, who did her best to ignore his glance.  
"Y-you must be mistaken, my liege." Zelda simpered, throwing an angry glance back at the Hero.  
Natu caught upon the throwing of gestures, as he looked over his shoulder. "You have!" He laughed; pleased it had taken mere seconds to rupture the usurper's usurpers.  
Zelda shot another furious stare as Silence sullenly trudged to her side.  
"Well, that matter is settled. Now, one of more importance waits: the coming Storm."  
The Once Princess tried to look slightly interested, but eventually gave up and flicked her hair imperiously. She wanted little part in this.  
"The name of our enemy is Termina. Driven by the words of an ancient evil, they align their blades with his. They foolishly hope to take our kingdom from us."  
"But it is not _our kingdom. _It is yours." Zelda contemptuously snorted, reckless now that the rebellion had been rumbled.  
Natu smiled widely, a shark seeing its next victim in the ocean. He spoke as if he had not heard Zelda's words. "I propose that we send you as an ambassador to allay their anger, my Lady. After all, after all that time as princess, you would surely know to make the _right _decision." He said; his tongue almost serrated as he issued this barbed comment.  
The Once Princess allowed her emotions to show, bubbling anger and unmatched fury.  
In a briefest second, however, she was once more composed.  
"Of _course, _I would _never_ want to go against your word, my Liege." She said this as if she was begging to do the opposite of her words.

O

Natu watched his two thralls leave, flexing his fingers as they finally left. _"Honourable brother, why must I fight alone in this requiring battle?" _  
Silence turned to face Natu, his jaded eyes shining dim in the firelight.  
_"I once more apologise. I try to assist however I can, but my efforts equal to none. Gomensai."  
_Natu looked down to his bandaged feet. _"The Wind has willed it. There is no need for apology."  
_But Natu wished that the wind had not, that he was but a simple Garo once more...

O

On the Ikanian dunes, a solitary Garo, Nocturn no Kami trundled about, driven by both his orders and the wind, gales whipping at his tattered robe edge, and the enchantments laid upon it, so he could move in absolute secrecy. Ahead of him lay the imposing sight of the Stone Tower, the folly of the Ikanian kings and witch-kings to reach the heavens so they could wage war unto the three Hyrulian Goddesses. Intelligence revealed that instead, they had been given the gift of a demon's curse.  
None of this was particularly important to the Garo, for he was only to watch the ins and outs of the kingdom, only to report when a Garo Master or some such personage of higher rank appeared to him. Seldom, a treasure-hunting troupe would ride about in their wagon, from which the Garo would silently ride, noticed by none of the occupants, despite being a whisper away from them.  
Today was one such day, and Nocturn, perched perfectly on the tip of one of the archaeologist's picks, let his yellow eyes wonder over the group, picking interesting titbits from the droll and dull chatter that they had on their minds.  
"Have you heard?" The leader asked, savouring the sound of pompousness in his tone.  
"Heard what?" The rest piped up, all of them curious idiots that would one day find their ways into a trap-riddled tomb that would spell the end for them.  
"There's this well, and it's dried up, but it's filled with treasure..."  
_"And hundreds of Gibdos. But of course, go ahead." _Nocturn remarked drily, knowing that the Magiks of his illusion also muted his words, so they could only be heard by others with Garo cloaks. The cloaks harnessed dark Magiks to keep their wearers unseen. The only way to undo this was the Garo wearing the cloak want to be seen.  
Making his own decisions were order of the day: He did not fancy fighting off thousands of mummified skeletons. For once, he decided, he would delve into the Ikanian halls, noticing a lack of anyone going in, or going out.  
Leaning over the tallest of the archaeologists, he somersaulted through the air, letting the wind take him to his destination, taking a last glance towards the troupe. They would be fine for a few hours.  
As long as they proved a valuable asset, Nocturn defended them from the Stal-Children. They, the wanderers, foolishly believed that they had a guardian angel; when he had first saved them from a horde of blood-thirsty undead, some had broke down into prayer. Maybe he had become their guardian angel: All he did now was wander around them.  
Stopping briefly to fortify the magic runes, Nocturn peered out onto the impressive, stretching deserts, seeing a few other Garo float around. Some had become one with the wind, not fighting at all against the warm breezes and gales, stopping when they did, moving when they blew. It was a fate that Nocturn no Kami was beginning to feel. It would not be a bad fate, if in service of the Emperor over the Seas.

O

The ReDeads were the most advanced weapon that Nocturn had seen. They stood pitiful, unwittingly throwing a glance towards the Garo whenever he neared. It was impossible, given his Magiks, but they seemed to be able to see him, with their eyeless faces. Nocturn, as a result, drew his form closer into the twilight that phased his vision. He shuddered as the darkness set in, but he was sure that he could recover. The Physics in the Empire had assured that no harm would come, lest he did not give himself fully. With the Magiks, Nocturn no Kami could walk, talk and breathe unseen. That did not deter the ReDeads. They saw anything and all, with their empty sockets. They saw his aura of shade, some starting towards him, others made practised movements from time to time as they stared, like some form of dance. They were no match for Nocturn's knives, swords and needles, or his chain of the latter.  
Some said that the Garo and the Sheikah traded secrets, both races born of shadows and Magiks. Nocturn had seen a few of the Hyrulian warriors face to face. The majority were women, which seemed more astounding. Whereas they tried to maintain solidity and a humanoid shape, the Garo gave their bodies to the disfiguring magic. Yellow eyes and bodies of black smoke, only keeping their Hyrulian hands and feet, wrapped in the bandages of brown and black: That was a Garo in appearance, the greatest unrestricted secret of the Empire.  
So now, Nocturn was slumped in a corner of an alcove, one that seemed to be storage of antiques, nestling between cobwebbed furniture and statues. The way through to the depths and belly of the castle were locked, and it had been a good while since he had played with Ikanian doors. There were also more pressing matters at hand. He took the toggles off of his cloak, revealing his smoke figure to the hollow knights. A cut that the Garo had received to his arm, lacing its way down to his bandaged left hand was the cause of such behaviour, and he needed to check the damage done to his body. He took hold of the end of the bandage and undid the appendage's bindings. Astonishment was wrought when the whole of the Garo's hand had turned to the smoke of his body. He took a second to heal his wound with remedies from the pouch of healing powders and runes, taking a painkilling root to grind with his teeth. Nocturn wrapped the bandage around his forearm, to show that he had become one with the wind, before repeating the process of unwrapping and fastened his other hand's bandage around his forearm. It was a sign of his divine blessing, which his namesakes had visited upon him.

O

Silently, he swathed himself in his cloak, making himself invisible to any eye. Now with his immaterial limbs, he could simply unlock the doors that barred his way. A finger in a tumbler filled keyhole was no matter for Nocturn no Kami. The guardians were left unawares at his passing. He paused for a moment, feeling hunger loom above him.  
_"Greetings, Honourable Brother; May I share sake with you?" _ Asked a whispering, tentative voice from the rafters; like a splash of water on an ink painting, a Garo Scoutseeker revealed himself to Nocturn, his Keaton mask showing his vocation. Hunger was not the only thing to dangle above. _  
"Thank you for your offer, Seeker-san, I shall. I too feel starvation. Give me time to join you up there." _He replied, with a kow-tow. It did not take long for Nocturn to ascend, to find a few packages of rice under his cloak, and to offer one to his generous companion, who offered him a greening stone cup. Nocturn took a quaff of the sake, feeling the alcohol burn down his throat.  
_"Ah, this is good sake. It quenches my long-lasting thirst." _He muttered appreciatively. _"What is your name, most Favoured of Sons, for mine is Nocturn no Kami?"  
"I thank you for your compliment, Brother Nocturn. My parents called me Acumen__no__ Kage__."  
"I take this sake in your name, Brother Acumen." _said Nocturn.  
It was Garo tradition to thank the maker of the meal, and to forsake this was not wise.  
They otherwise ate in silence, making no noise as they drank, and picking rice and fish eggs with their needles, again in absolute quiet.  
It was a peace that was disrupted when a devilish murmur. The speech was in a dialect that neither of the Garo had heard, and as such, they were put onto high alert. As part of their training, all Garo were taught Hyrulian and any other intelligible language; to hear something they did not understand was quite frankly unheard of.  
_"What was that?"_ Acumen asked, slipping his Keaton mask back into place.  
_"I do not know."_ Nocturn growled, righting his tatty cowl, _"But it sounded demoniac. Best stay on alert."  
_He let one curved blade slide into his hand. He wanted to be prepared for anything. This sounded worse than a rogue ReDead.  
The rest of the meal was consumed in a tense mood. It was ruptured once more by the screams of tens of ReDeads, then silence: cold, callous silence. The pretence of ignorance was quickly dropped as both the Garo readied themselves for whatever creature was to come, both recalling their extensive lifetime of training.  
_"If you paralyse it, I will go in with my blades."_ Nocturn assured, watching Acumen weight a bomb in his hand.  
_"Of course; through unity we shall prevail. And if either of us is to fall..." _He trailed off.  
_"I give my word that I will observe the rites." _Nocturn nodded.  
_"As do I: we have nothing to fear from this forthcoming foe." _Acumen said, also giving his assent.  
The double door was swiftly barricaded, before the two Garo hid themselves in both shadow and twilight.  
The tremendous force that battered the door soon proved their efforts fruitless; the defences were splintered easily and flew across the room.  
_"Sages..."_ Nocturn muttered, relying on his swords to fight the good fight of victory. He had, with the loan he had been given to furnish himself with weaponry by the Emperor's Council, requested two special swords to be crafted to his exact requirements. He then had had them imbued with powerful demons. One sword he had called Muramasa, vicious and bloodthirsty, the other he had christened Hagakure, strong and courageous. But even with these, the Garo felt doubt creep into his mind. Could he possibly defeat whatever lay through the door?

O

The swords met in mid air, four against two, and the clash of blades sent sparks into the air, the hideously-masked skull kid chuckling insanely.  
"Die, Garo, die!" He giggled with gusto, never letting up his relentless strikes, harder and harder with his stolen swords.  
Acumen chose that moment, when the creature was most directed at Nocturn, to toss the first of his fast-working corrosive grenades. It hit the skull child square in the back, eating away at his clothes and the skeleton underneath.  
"Impudence!" This was now the kid's voice intermingled with that of the demon, a fierce distortion of both, "I shall see to it that both of you will pay!"  
The skull kid began to levitate, his toes mere millimetres from the ground and shot lightning bolts from the demon's finger tips.  
Whatever it was, a curious combination, seemed like the skull kid was piggybacking the most obscure demon, like a tall golden woman with rainbow locks, and both had fearsome swords in each of their grips.  
Whilst Acumen was struck in the stomach, Nocturn used his blades as conductors and the hilts like insulators, drawing the crackling electricks away from his body.  
"I shall deliver judgement to those of this doomed land! Revenge shall be given to the Goddesses by me! I am their arbiter! Your Phallic Gods shall be no more!" The demon screamed her eyes ablaze with terrible fury as she began her onslaught with renewed vigour. Nocturn ducked behind a wooden post and four lengths of rusted iron sunk into the support. There was another irritated scream, but the Garo ignored it. He ran around and pushed Hagakure into the skull kid's back, following it up with a few slashes across the demon's unblemished back. Where there was blood was more of the insane, moody rainbows, oscillating over the tally of scars.  
"Gah! Taste my awesome might! Those who befall-" The demon started, twisting to look at the insolent Garo. She was cut short by Acumen's rain of needles, sinking into her flesh from her shoulder blade to the skull kid's neck. This was a skill he had presumably learnt of from the Sheikah.

"ENOUGH!"

A circle of red daggers, blue spears, purple swords and any weapon in a certain hue, made of curling light orbited the demon's form, and the skull kid gathered his tiny fists, shooting when he splayed them outwards, fingers reaching for Nocturn and Acumen.  
The first of the Garo relied on his quick reflexes to see him out of the way, but the onslaught of curling light trapped Acumen in a nexus of harmful nimbuses.  
An exclamation of rage escaped Nocturn and he rushed to Acumen's crumpled from. He held his swords in a defensive attitude, taking a stance against the demon.  
The skull kid laughed a peal of demented laughter, rising up above them.  
"Wander in my name, Garo, and live a life where _I _will choose your path!"  
Both the demon and the skull kid exploded in a flower of purple mist, golden dust glittering like confetti.  
There was a moment of silence as Nocturn watched the vapour form into a heart shaped, cackling face aligned with horns, then disappear into nothingness like what had come before it. Then, the piles of bone and armour around the two ninjas convalesced into three Stalfos.  
"Garo! Garo in my court! Seize them!" This was the one slumped in a throne, who stood erect at the sight of them.  
The two guardsmen made a move for them, but they were long gone by the second they had taken a step.

O

The heat of the Ikanian sun beat down on the two Garo, and Acumen was not accustomed to such heat, preferring the cool interior of the halls they had fled. He collapsed to the ground, and began to shrivel into a tight ball. _"End it, now. The pain..."_ To amplify his point, he let loose some agitated grunts.  
Nocturn turned to look at him, and recognised death spasms.  
_"It will be over. Soon." _He promised, forlornly looking to the ground. There was a small explosion, and then a few tatters of shadow-like cloth were lost to the wind.  
The Keaton mask looked drily, accusingly up at Nocturn.  
For the longest time, he stared up at the stone tower, playing with the mask in his vaporous fingers. Then, he looked to the grotesque moon, seeing it for the first time.  
A howling wind began to blow, and Nocturn set his mind. He noticed the cart of the archaeologist nearby. In his fight with the demon, the caravan had been ripped to shreds.  
He was alone in a dead place.  
Nocturn no Kami. Shadow of the Gods. He himself was a shadow.  
And shadows do not decide where they go. They have their path chosen for them.

O

**This is some pretty dark stuff for the origin of Natu. Then again, it's not looking bright for anyone from Hyrule.  
This chapter was originally going to have more 'Current day' topics, but I sort of fell into writing Nocturn's story. It's been pretty fun, as Nintendo left a HUGE hole with the Garo. Who are they? Where do they come from? What is it like there?**  
**So yes, lots of fun had there.** **  
If you are interested in Libra-Hedgie's art, look no further, as I have provided the Keywords! Slpa this in your search bar! **Of a Fragmented Birthright  
**Art Ho!**


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